


It's Just the Sun in Your Eyes

by Lapomme (KillTheDirector)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Starfighter, M/M, Navigator/Fighter dynamic, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Space Gays, minor sexual abuse, pron with plot, space mutiny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillTheDirector/pseuds/Lapomme
Summary: "Rogers, this will be your Fighter." Steve was sure that despite his exceptional talents with the Navigation technologies, due to his poor health, he'd be placed somewhere on the bridge. Not Navigating for a Fighter.





	1. You Wanna Go to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a smutty one shot. NOT THIS.
> 
> This will be updated slowly.

_Fighters are not to be trusted, not even when you're both out there and he's defending your life._

This is the first thing they tell the Navigators when they're brought into the station _Atlas_. Their commander is a severe looking man with a permanent scowl on his face and one eye. 

The white of the Navigator uniform is nearly blinding to Steve, and his hands sweat with nervous energy, but he files away this rule for processing later. 

As the new Navigators begin to walk out into the bay, Steve is stopped by a large hand clamping down on his thin shoulder. He looks up in shock at the commander, Fury, who orders him to follow. 

Steve is brought to the command center; it's buzzing with activity, Navigators in their pure white flitting through the few Fighters peppered throughout the bridge, like slashes of blackness against a milky backdrop. Steve stares in awe at the huge screens that show the vastness of space and the bright blue of his planet below. 

His throat closes for a moment, homesickness bringing tears to his eyes even though there isn't anyone down there for him now. 

"Rogers." Steve is pulled from his thoughts by the sharp voice of his commander, and he saddles up to him obediently. He looks up from studying the shiny floor and meets grey eyes that are as cold as space. 

The man is a Fighter and looks at least two heads taller than Steve; he is stunningly handsome, but his plush mouth is set in a thin line and his expression set like stone. Steve swallows thickly, unable to look away from the man even when Fury begins talking. 

"Rogers, this will be your Fighter." Steve blinks and the spell the man's eyes had upon him dissipates. Cold shock runs through his tiny frame, and he turns to face his commander with a look that is a mixture of confusion and happiness. 

"S-sir?" Steve was sure that despite his exceptional talents with the Navigation technologies, due to his poor health, he'd be placed somewhere on the bridge. 

Not Navigating for a Fighter. 

Fury doesn't look down at him, and is instead staring at the Fighter who has not moved an inch. 

"Your marks with the Navigation system were some of the highest we've seen. You'll catch on quickly enough." Steve nods slowly, still not believing what his commander is telling him. 

His gaze flickers over to the man, noting the muscle that stretches the black material of the Fighter uniform to almost obscene degrees and his dark brown hair that hangs in soft curtains around his face. 

Though what really catches Steve's interest is the shiny metal arm that is branded with a bright red star.

The Red Room. 

The air knocks around in Steve's lungs, and when he pulls his eyes from the star, they lock once more with the Fighter's slate grey ones. Fury places a heavy hand on Steve's shoulder, but Steve doesn't look away from the Fighter; he's never met anyone from the Red Room because all the Info-reads said that they all died. 

"Your task names will be Achilles and Patroclus, do you understand?" Steve mumbles an affirmative while the man only gives a short incline of his head. 

He's still staring at Steve. 

The blond is handed a folder that contains the information of where he'll be sleeping--when he checks the file, he notes with a jolt of _something_ , that it's where _they'll_ be sleeping--and sighs softly to himself. 

He feels the Fighter's presence beside him even though he didn't hear the man move, and looks warily over out of the corner of his eyes. 

The man--should Steve call him Achilles?--presses the button to open their dormitory's door and silently steps inside. Steve follows, nervousness eating away inside his gut. 

The door slides closed with a final sounding click. 

Their room is small, far too small for two fully grown men (even if Steve is 5'4" and 100 pounds of wiry muscle). Achilles has stepped over to the bed on the right side of the room, so Steve moves to the left. 

He lets out a rather undignified sounding yelp when he's nearly thrown onto the other bed. Achilles looms above him, the metal hand wrapped around both of Steve's wrists easily, pinning his arms above his head. Grey eyes examine his face, expression oddly neutral while Steve struggles under his hold. 

"W-what are you--!" Steve gasps in pain when the Fighter _bites_ down on his bottom lip, drawing blood. "You _bit_ me!?" 

The Fighter pulls away, loosening his grip around Steve's wrists enough that the blond can squirm away. He's licking the blood from his teeth, expression cooly considering (and Steve does _not_ think about the small rush that goes down his spine at that). 

Steve's back is pressed against the wall on the other side of the room, his lip throbbing in time with his racing heart beat. "I-I'm going to report you--" 

His outrage is cut through by the loud wail of the emergency alarm; both he and Achilles look up at the red light washing them in tones of fire, and when Steve glances down from the ceiling and to the Fighter, he notices with a soft gasp the wide and feral grin twisting the other man's mouth. 

There's still blood on his teeth. 

" _All units to the bridge._ " 

Achilles looks down at Steve for a moment and his grin dies to a smirk; he raises a dark eyebrow and turns away, quickly striding to leave their dormitory. Steve stares after him for a dazed moment and then follows. 

\--

The Navigator's presence causes something to trill up his spine, especially with the way he had writhed underneath his solid hold and growled out threats. 

The Soldier (that is what they call him, not his task name nor do they indicate any sort of name he may have had _before_ ) leads the little Navigator into the ship bay. He pulls in a long breath of artificial O2, body thrumming in anticipation for the fight. 

He wonders how his Navigator will fare out in open space. 

"Unit Achilles and Patroclus," They turn and see a woman dressed in the cool grey of the _Atlas'_ mechanical unit waving them over to a pristine ship painted the color of ink. 

The Soldier knows what ship this is, and by the wide eyed awe crossing over his Navigator's face, so does he. 

"The _Sleipnir_?" The Navigator breathes, stepping up to the ship and placing a hand almost lovingly on the surface. No doubt he's imagining the infamous ship in action with its even more infamous Navigator/Fighter team, task name: Thor and Loki, piloting the thing. 

"You are assigned this ship until new parts come in from the surface." The woman isn't even looking at them and is focused on putting their information into the system. It's fine because the Soldier's eyes are fixed upon his tiny Navigator, who continues to trace long fingers over the ship's black paint. 

"You're clear for all actions regarding the _Sleipnir_ ," the woman flicks her eyes up to him, and he nods once. Seemingly pacified, she hands him the commlinks that will connect them to the _Atlas_. 

The Soldier steps silently behind his Navigator and places a hand lightly on his small waist. The man jumps and turns, a scowl twisting on his rosy mouth that's marred by the Soldier's mark. He smothers down the urge to smirk, and thinks that it's good he was paired with this Navigator because the other Fighters would've eaten him alive. 

Wordlessly, he hands his Navigator the commlink and climbs into the lower level of the ship. He sighs softly, hands (both flesh and metal) spreading almost serenely over the controls. He hears the Navigator scurry into the upper level and then the near silent whirr of the ship's engine as it comes to life. 

The lights over head have changed from an angry flashing red to a buttery yellow; his heart calms to a steady thrum while his fingers wrap around the gun's controls. He'll see how well this Navigator can handle himself once faced with an actual enemy. 

The light changes dramatically to a bright forest green and the hanger hatch opens to reveal open space. 

\--

Steve's heart is in his throat, but his hands shake in excitement. He lets out a long whoosh of breath and presses the button to start the ship; he hears a low laugh over the comm when the ship lurches forward into open space. 

" _Nervous?_ " Steve's eyes flit over to see that it's the ship's inner-line, and feels himself flush. The Fighter is actually talking to him. He scowls at the teasing note in the other man's accented voice, stomach dropping low as the ship adjusts to the vacuum of space. 

"Not even close." Steve hears another near silent laugh on the line, and ignores the surge of...something that jolts through his veins. 

He sees enemy ships coming toward them and fast; the other ships line up on either side of him, turning their noses toward the attack. 

" _ **Ready, newbie?**_ " Steve swallows at the sound of another Navigator on the comm, noting that it comes from the Navigator task name: Icarus. 

"Y-Yeah." His fingers fiddle over the controls, heart lurching when the enemy ships split from formation. 

" _ **Alright, let's kick some ass!**_ " this cry from Icarus' Fighter, Iapyx, is followed by many other whoops of excited fear as they break formation. Steve sucks in another breath, calming his nerves. 

" _Ready?_ " It's Achilles again, but instead of mockery lacing over his words, there's a soft note of concern. 

Steve doesn't think about it and instead slams his hand on the navigation sphere, launching them into the fray. 

\--

His Navigator is _amazing_. The Soldier's mouth is twisted in a large grin that shows far too many teeth while he easily shoots down the enemy ships. 

The Navigator sails through space as if he were made for this, as if he were made for the Soldier. They're extremely compatible, and it's evidenced by the number of kills they rack up. 

" _Achilles, left._ " He hums softly, lower part of the ship jerking when he aims and fires. A thrill of exhilaration scurries up his spine. 

Yes, he can work with this one. 

The enemy is taken care of with clinical efficiency though his blood sings in his veins from the fight. The Soldier listens to his Navigator's shocked laughter on the other end of the comm; he shifts in his seat, blood rushing south at the noise. 

 _ **"All units back to base."**_ There is a collective 'whoop' from all of the units (save himself) at Fury's order. 

The small red light indicating someone on the ship's inner-line has opened communication blinks to life.  " _Is it always this easy?_ " The Soldier leans back, allowing his body to relax against the dark leather. He imagines his Navigator doing the same. 

"...not always." He is a man of very few words, known to not speak to any of the Navigators they try to push upon him for weeks at a time. But...there's something about this one that makes him want to break his silence. 

A soft noise travels over the line, and he feels his dick twitch in interest. He wants to hear the little Navigator make more of those noises almost as much as he wants to hear him scream in ecstasy. " _How many fights have you been in?_ " The question is on the end of a breath, and the ship seems to lurch a little faster than normal; there are words of caution from the more experienced Navigators on the public line, but he ignores them in favor of the quiet breathing he can hear over the private link. 

They've traveled a couple of miles away from the ship, so there's plenty of time to rile the Navigator up. 

"Far too many to count." The Soldier hums, his legs stretching out as much as the small space will allow. "...the rush one gets from completing a successful mission is," he allows his accent roll the words in his mouth, voice like gravel due to his normally being silent. " _Euphoric._ "

He hears the Navigator take in a sharp breath, a soft whine on the end as he releases a sigh. The Solider's mouth curls into a small smile, and he glances upwards to where he knows the Navigator is. "Do you feel it?" He asks quietly, "That euphoria?" 

The inner-line is switched off immediately, and the Soldier finds himself letting out a short bark of laughter. His dick throbs painfully, but he imagines the look on his Navigator's face and that makes the laughter come out louder. 

\--

Steve can't look at the Fighter when they return to the base because...he shifts uncomfortably, keeping his eyes trained on the person debriefing them. 

Goddesses above, he had actually come in his pants. 

He chances a look out of the corner of his eye at the Fighter, a deep blush staining his cheeks. The Fighter isn't looking at him, but Steve would bet all the credits in the world that the man knew _exactly_ what had happened. 

"Soldat." They both turn at the sharp command, though from his peeking, Steve sees the Fighter's shoulders tense. 

The man is the Fighters' commander, Alexander Pierce. He's an unassuming looking man, but from Steve's extensive studying of the Navigator/Fighter history, he knows that the man is considered one of the best Fighters in the military. 

Pierce says something in a different language to which--Soldat?-- responds. The Fighter leaves Steve without so much as a backward glance, following the Fighter commander into the bowls of the ship. 

Steve lets out a long and shaking breath, yelping in shock when a broad hand lands on his shoulder. He turns and is met by a wide smile from another Navigator. "You were amazing out there, rookie!" Steve blinks and the man takes his hand from the blond's skinny shoulder in order to gather his hand up and shake it. "Name's Sam Wilson, task name: Icarus." 

He's one of the first friendly faces that Steve has seen since boarding the _Atlas_ , and he feels his shoulders relaxing. "Steve Rogers, um task name: Patroclus." He smiles a little self consciously. "Uh, thanks."

Sam nods toward the small group of Navigators and Fighters who are talking amongst themselves and raises an eyebrow. "We're headin' down to the mess to get a drink, wanna come?" 

Steve wants to say yes because Sam seems extremely nice, but the tacky pull of his Navigator suit against his inner thighs make him wince. "Ah, I'm pretty wiped...maybe another time?" 

Sam nods sagely but smiles. "Yeah I get that. The first time out in open space is a real bitch." He lightly knocks his fist against Steve's chest. "But I'll hold ya to it. Rest easy." 

Steve waves a little at the group of men who turn and give him a few nods when Sam leaves to join them. He lets out a sigh and walks back to his room. 

The dorm is blessedly empty; Steve rests his back against the door with a long sigh, the adrenaline from the earlier fight finally leaving his small body. 

He doesn't know what would have happened if Achilles had been in the room when he came back.  

Steve begins to pull off his Navigator suit, nose crinkling at the pull of his dried come still clinging to his legs. 

Thankfully the dormitories come with a private bathroom, allowing for Steve to scrub away any evidence that he had been riled up by his Fighter. 

The thought brings a bright red flush to his cheeks as he steps under the lukewarm stream of water. Steve's hands clench into fists, trying--and failing--to not think about the dark voice in his ear telling him about ' _euphoria_ '. 

He tells himself that it had only happened because of the after fight adrenaline, and at first it had been. But then Steve had began to think about his Fighter, about big hands and broad shoulders and slate-grey eyes. 

It had been stupid to open communication with the other man, but Steve had been curious. 

Under the spray, Steve's tongue swipes over the gash bisecting his bottom lip. Pain brings him back to reality, and he ignores the heat traveling down to his groin. 

\--

The Soldier follows behind his commander like an obedient dog, hands clasped behind his back as they head further down into the ship. 

Only once they're in the area that's populated by Fighters and thus all of the security systems are monitored by Pierce's men, does his commander break the silence. "Report."

The Soldier's spine straightens, the need to obey the man who created him the only thing on his mind. "The men are in position and only wait for your orders, sir." Those who were assigned Navigators were the only ones allowed in the upper decks; it was the problem with having so few Navigators and too many Fighters. Unrest had begun to grow amongst those loyal to the cause but unable to do anything about it, and those who were on deck simply  waited for their commander's orders. 

There was going to be a mutiny and he was the one who would pull the trigger. 

Pierce smiles slowly and turns to him. The Soldier tries not to think about the very same man's face hovering over his as he was created, wiped clean of any semblance of who he was before. 

The bright red star painted over his metal arm is the testament to his rebirth. 

"Excellent." His commander levels him with a considering look. "And your new mission?"

The Soldier feels something warm rush through him at the mention of his Navigator, affection or lust he isn't sure which. "The Navigator has no clue of his true power."

Pierce hums, pleased by this news. "You're doing very well, Soldat. Soon, you'll bring the needed change to this station and the planet. Hail Hydra."

He knows he's dismissed, so he turns to leave. "Hail Hydra." The words taste like ash on his tongue. 

\--

Steve jolts awake when he hears the door to the room slide open and then closed. He keeps his eyes shut, his ears straining to hear what the Fighter is doing. 

Footsteps as quiet as a breath pause in the darkened room, and Steve hears the man let out a quick puff of laughter. "You're very obvious." Steve scowls and opens his eyes, almost blind in the dimness of the room. 

"I _was_ asleep." He grouses, and leans over to flip on the lamp beside his bed. The room is washed in a low and calming yellow that reminds Steve of home. He pushes back the feeling of sadness and looks at his Fighter who is standing in the middle of the room, staring at him.   
   
The man's plush mouth quirks up at the corners in a quick smile. "My apologies." They stare at each other for a moment before the Fighter tilts his head downward. "I'll leave you to your sleep."

"Wait," Steve sits up, unsure as to why he's asking the other man to stop. His lip stretches in a way that pulls at the bite wound. "You never...uh, what's your name?" 

The Fighter's eyebrows furrow in response, a look of confusion working over his handsome face. "You know my task name."

Steve shakes his head, wondering why he's questioning the very man that had _assaulted_ him only hours before. "No, I mean your _actual_ name." He stumbles a bit getting out of bed, but holds his head high and offers his hand to the other man. "My name is Steve Rogers. We never actually introduced ourselves." 

The Fighter's eyes flicker down to Steve's hand and then back up to his face. The air is tense and crackling with some sort of unspoken energy; Steve's hand begins to waver in the air. 

"I don't have a name." The man says, eyes trained on Steve's face. "I was never given one..."

The Navigator is confused, but a quick glance to the red star standing proudly against the silver of the man's arm reminds him. It was rumored that those who were in the Red Room were experimented on, their minds wiped clean in order to make room for their training. 

Steve lowers his hand, long fingers curling against his palm as righteous anger washes through him. He doesn't know what the man before him went through, but the confusion working over his face at the question of his name shows how true the rumors had been. 

"I'm sorry." Steve murmurs, "I...I wasn't thinking about...yeah."

His Fighter studies him with narrowed eyes; he steps closer, his presence and warmth nearly overwhelming in the small space of their room. "It's fine." The words grind out of his mouth, rumbled low in his throat like a purr. 

Steve swallows thickly, looking up at the man with wide eyes. His nose is nearly brushing against the man's chest with how close they're standing. "I...what should I call you?" 

The Fighter tilts his head in thought, mercury colored eyes studying Steve's face. "I'm your Fighter, you may call me whatever you like." 

Steve's lip throbs in time with his rapid heartbeat. The man's eyes haven't wavered from Steve's face, but his cold metal hand lifts up and traces the Navigator's split lip; it's a surprisingly gentle touch, even though Steve is sure the thing could crush his throat like a paper cup. "This scar marks you as mine just as I'm yours to do with as you see fit." 

Steve lets out a shaky breath, his eyes wide and heart pounding a loud beat against his breast bone. The tension  in the air tightens around his lungs like a string, making his head dizzy; Steve sucks in a weedy sounding breath and then lets it out again. 

"Are you...are you doing this on purpose?" He asks, swallowing thickly. The Fighter raises a brow in question, but he doesn't move away from the Navigator. Steve raises his hands and gently places them against the strong planes of the man's chest, eyes never leaving the Fighter's. 

 _Don't ever look away from a wild animal._ His mother had told him that. 

 _Fighter's aren't to be trusted._ His commander had warned him of this. 

Steve slowly leans forward and presses his lips against the Fighter's. It's a chaste kiss for all but two seconds before the man growls and presses against him with barely subdued passion. 

Their lips mash together, their fervor making their teeth knock together. Steve's fingers dig into the black material of the Fighter uniform, his legs shaking underneath him. He presses as close as he can, a needy sounding noise leaving his throat when he feels his Fighter's interest pressing against his thigh. 

They pull apart, and Steve sucks in a too loud breath before his mouth is occupied again. The Fighter's hands travel over Steve's sides, fingers tugging the material of his sleeping shirt upward to reveal his quivering stomach. 

The man pulls his mouth from Steve's and plants his lips against the skin of the Navigator's throat. Sharp teeth scrape against the sensitive flesh, making Steve swallow down the moan that wants to escape. 

Steve's back is pressed against the wall, and when he squirms as the Fighter's mouth trails down down down, his skin rubs against the slick surface. He's biting on the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out because sexual relations between a Navigator/Fighter unit are extremely prohibited. 

"Let me hear you." Steve shivers at the command the Fighter all but growls out, his wide blue eyes flickering down to where the man has his mouth hovering over Steve's navel. A dark eyebrow rises, his hands tight around Steve's hips; he's pretty sure he's gonna have bruises later. 

"We're n-not--!" Steve yelps when the Fighter's tongue dives into his belly button, the feeling extremely weird in the way it shoots down to his groin. He glares shakily at the tiny smile perking the edges of the man's mouth. "Asshole."

The cool metal of the Fighter's hand moves from its position on Steve's hip and begins to tug down his pajama pants. Cool air hits his straining dick, making Steve blush brightly in embarrassment while his Fighter just gazes down at the leaking head with a look that can only be described as hungry. 

Steve looks away with a soft whimper, not able to watch the man's plush mouth descend upon him just in case he comes too early. He bites down on the inside of his cheek, knees buckling but body being held up by his Fighter's strong hands. "G-goddesses above--" he gasps, eyes squeezing shut. 

The man sucks his dick sloppily, the noise lecherous and going straight to Steve's head. He tries not to thrust into his Fighter's mouth, but heavy hands guide him into doing so until he's whimpering. 

Steve comes with a high pitched whine, long fingers twisted in his Fighter's dark hair. He sees stars exploding behind his eyes, and his mouth is open in a small 'o' of surprise. 

He watches the way the man's throat bobs when he swallows; Steve's legs give out at that, and he winces when his back squeaks against the wall. 

The Fighter's tongue flicks out to catch any remaining semen at the corners of his mouth and smiles quickly. Steve's mind is too dazed to tell if it's a nice smile or not. "Perhaps next time we'll be able to do more." The man says softly, his flesh hand gently pushing away Steve's bangs. 

Steve tries to fight away sleep as much as he can; he protests groggily when his Fighter gathers him in his strong arms and deposits him onto a bed. "I can walk, ya know." He grumbles. 

The Fighter lets out a huff of laughter (Steve wonders what he would sound like if he were to fully let go) and the bed dips behind him. A cold nose presses against the hollow behind Steve's ear, and thick arms wrap around his middle. "Go to sleep, Steve Rogers." 

**End Part I**


	2. Dreams

_The cold bites at his exposed skin with ravenous teeth while he stares up at the dark sky, the stub of his ruined arm slowly leaking blood._

_His breath leaves him in shuddering wheezes, and tears begin to well in the corners of his eyes as he thinks of his sister left behind in their ramshackle apartment in the Colony while he waits for death on the outreaches of the settlement._

The Soldier doesn't wake up with a shout of fear, though his body does violently jerk once. He blinks in confusion, eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light of the room; his mind is fuzzy around the edges, and he's clinging to something as if his life depends on it. 

He looks down at the little Navigator tangled in his arms; a small smile curls the corner of the Solider's mouth unbidden before he squashes the expression. 

He carefully pulls away from the man and goes to look out of the small porthole that is currently overlooking Earth. 

The Soldier rubs a hand down his face with a grimace, hating the phantom images and pain of a past he doesn't remember. The memories have been coming more frequently, and though he knows that he should talk to the commander in order to be fixed...the Soldier shakes his head and quietly stalks out of the room. 

The ship is quiet though never fully silent. There is the hum of constant movement behind doors that are both personal and to keep the _Atlas_ functioning. The Soldier keeps to the shadows and is thankful that his training allows him to move without being seen. 

He makes it to a rarely used observation bridge and lets out a soft sigh of relief. He stares at a larger view of the Earth, eyes wide as he takes in the magnificent blues and greens of a planet he'll never visit. 

"You're up late." The Soldier's grits his teeth at being bothered, but his annoyance is soon replaced by something that could be considered happiness. 

"Persephone." He turns to watch as the woman soundlessly walks on the metal catwalk toward him. Her bright white Navigator suit is a sharp contrast to her rust colored hair and blood red mouth. 

She snorts as she settles beside him, turning to look over the Earth with a softly fond expression. "No task names, Soldat, you should know that by now." 

The Soldier releases a quick breath from his nose and looks away from her. "Natalya, it's been a while." He's known Natalya for as long as he could remember; they had been born together in the Red Room, but she had fought to leave the tangled web while he had been forced into silence. 

"We just got back from Earth." She says, voice barely above a whisper. "It's different than I thought...better than the Colonies." 

A near silent buzzing begins in the back of his mind; he grits his teeth and grips at the handrail with his flesh hand. "I'm glad for you." The Soldier sucks down a shaky breath. "You deserved to see the Earth, Natalya."

When he closes his eyes he can feel the harsh cold of Mars seeping into every crack. He blinks and suddenly he has been reborn and stands in front of a group of children, dirty orphans from the Colony as they stare up at him with too trusting eyes. 

"Soldat...?" The buzzing grows louder until it's a scream. There are thirteen little girls that are dancing circles around him until there is only one; she's covered in blood and is _screaming_ \--"SOLDAT." 

The Soldier opens his eyes and gasps loudly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Natalya has his face cupped in her small hands, her gaze fixed upon him with a ferocious protectiveness that snags at the ragged edges of his heart. 

"I can't be seen with you." He whimpers, hands--flesh and metal--coming up to pull hers away. 

He stands (when did he fall?) and takes a step away from her. Natalya's eyebrows furrow, but her expression smooths into blankness. "What's going on?" She demands. 

The Soldier clenches his jaw and tries to will away the urge to disobey his commander any further (if he were to be seen with any Navigator other than his own, and especially _her_ ) the commander would know that he's becoming defective. "I can't tell you." He looks away from her probing gaze and swiftly turns on his heel to walk away. 

\--

Steve chews nervously on the inside of his cheek while he and the operational Navigators are lined up in the Navigational command center. 

His Fighter was gone when he woke up, and Steve isn't sure whether he feels angry or...sad. 

He steels his emotions away and straightens his spine when the doors open and Commander Fury marches in. He's followed by a small red headed woman who's face is as blank and beautiful as a porcelain doll. Steve swallows thickly, and he can hear the hushed whispers of excitement down the line of Navigators. 

Sam stands tall beside him and lets out a low whistle. Steve glances at the man from the corner of his eye. "What?" 

Sam keeps his gaze ahead but a corner of his mouth quirks briefly. "That's Persephone, one of Fury's favorite Navigators...wonder why _she's_ back?" 

Steve opens his mouth to ask where she had been, but a sharp look from Fury has him swallowing down his question. 

The commander glares at him for a moment before turning to address the Navigators. "Many of you know who this is, but for the ones that don't," Steve flushes, feeling as if this is directed toward him, "Natasha Romanov, task name: Persephone is one of our _best_ Navigators. Show her the same respect that you show all commanders." 

The woman smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She gracefully steps forward and sweeps her eyes down the line of Navigators before her gaze falls to rest on him. Steve freezes when she begins to stalk forward, mind blanking when she stands in front of him. 

"Who are you?" Her voice is low, soothing in a way that reminds Steve of vipers or spiders luring their prey into a trap. His palms are sweaty and he knows that he looks a frazzled mess. 

"I-I'm Steve Rogers," he stammers, "Uh, task name: Patroclus. Ma'am." He doesn't know why he's so nervous, especially since he didn't even _know_ who this woman was before hand. Her unblinking stare reminds him of his Fighter, but she's quicker to smile even if it is fake. 

She nods once and her fake smile has died down to something softer. "I see." She turns on her heel and walks back to Fury. Steve watches as she says something to him, and the man nods. 

Natasha turns back to the group of Navigators. "A small group of you will be under my command for a reconnaissance mission in the Outer Reach in two weeks. I will be observing and analyzing each of your strengths and weaknesses as a Navigator and will choose who I see fit." A dark red eyebrow arches daintily. "Understand?" 

"Yes, ma'am!" Steve's heart thuds in his chest. 

The Outer Reach? If he and Achilles were chosen, it would be the furthest he would ever be from Earth. From home. 

He feels eyes on him and sees that Natasha is staring at him with a calculating gaze. 

()()

"You and your Navigator will be going on the mission to the Outer Reach where your actual mission will begin." He stares at a space just over the shoulder of his commander. "Do you understand, Soldat?" 

When he doesn't respond, the man releases a heavy sigh before swinging his hand, catching him right across the face. Pain shoots through the Soldier's cheek, but he doesn't wince from the strike. "Yes, sir." 

Pierce hums and turns away from the Soldier. He sits with a soft groan, the black of his uniform sucking in any light around them and making the room appear darker. He rests his chin on a curled fist and stares at the Soldier; his dark eyes are probing, almost reptilian in their lack of feeling. The Soldier knows that if he were human, he'd feel uncomfortable under such a gaze. 

"That _failure_ will be commanding the mission." Pierce's mouth thins to a sharp line. "You will not interact with her or her idiot of a 'Fighter' under any circumstances." 

"Of course, sir." 

Pierce hums, satisfied with the compliance. The Soldier feels oddly antsy, wanting to get out of the man's presence as soon as he can...he's confused, because he isn't supposed to feel like this; this man gave him a new life, a life wiped clean. 

He's supposed to be grateful. 

The commander leans back and narrows his eyes. "Drop to your knees." 

()()

The day passes in a blur; between advanced training for the possible mission to the Outer Reach and regular maintenance, Steve barely has time to think. 

He ducks out of going to the mess hall for drinks with Sam and the other Navigators, apologizing profusely before the older man laughs and tells him to get some sleep. 

Steve stumbles into his room, uncaring if his Fighter is in or not. He pushes the memories of the night before out of his mind and tells himself that it was a one time thing. 

He doesn't dwell on his disappointment and instead falls onto his bed. 

Steve falls into a fitful slumber; his mind conjures up memories of when he lived on Earth with his mother. She had been severely sick, and he had thought enlisting in the military would help with their combined medical bills. It didn't matter that he wasn't exactly the type of person the military was looking for, he was smart and took to the Navigational system like a fish to water. 

His mother had been so proud when he managed to get into the academy, but they both knew that she wouldn't live to see him graduate. 

Steve rolls over onto his back, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth while his mind moves away from unpleasant memories. 

He falls deeper into sleep, memories sliding away to blankness. Steve jolts, suddenly aware of being _watched_. He moves to his side, eyes cracking open in the darkness. 

At first he's sure it's his Fighter, but he's soon proven wrong. 

A woman sits serenely on the other bed, her milky white eyes staring down at him though they don't have pupils. He scrambles to sit up, heart thudding while he reaches over to turn on the light. The switch doesn't work, but he can see the woman clearly...Steve's jaw works to try and get words out, but the only thing that does is a confused squeak. 

The woman smiles softly. She doesn't speak, but Steve can hear her almost as if she did. _"Don't be afraid."_

He's asleep, there's just no other way to explain this. "Are you..." His tongue flicks out to wet his suddenly dry lips. "Are you the Goddess?" Even if he's asleep, there was always the possibility that one of the Goddesses could come to him...but why? 

She laughs, the sound like bells and soothing in a way that makes Steve's shoulders relax. _"How astute! I'm glad that I don't need to explain who I am, it gets tiring."_ Steve finds himself smiling at her as though he's an idiot, but the grin is wiped away almost as soon as it had appeared.

"Why are you here...appearing to me?" He wasn't anyone special, sure he had gone to services when he was on Earth, but it wasn't as if he were a part of the priest class. The Goddesses didn't appear to average people like him. 

Her expression morphs from one of blissful happiness to one of simmering rage. Steve feels his heart in his throat at the expression; subconsciously he begins to scoot away. _"To warn you, Steve Rogers. There is unrest amongst the Atlas...and some who wish to hurt you to gain your power. Trust no one, not even your Fighter."_

"W-what are you talking about?" She's beginning to fade at the edges; Steve sounds as if he's talking into a tunnel, their connection is starting to break. "Are you saying there's gonna be a mutiny? And what do you mean my 'power'!?" 

_"You need to wake up now, Steve."_

Her voice is far away, barely a whisper. He knows that it's futile trying to get an answer, yet he still tries. "Answer me! What's gonna happen!?" 

_"Wake **up**."_

Steve sucks in a loud breath when he finally wakes up. He stares blindly up at the ceiling for a few moments, heart pounding while he attempts to catch his breath. His head still echoes with the Goddess' warning; he needs to tell someone...he needs...Steve looks over to the empty bed. 

Scrambling up from the bed, Steve makes a rash decision. He's going to go down into the Fighters' command center and demand answers from his absent Fighter. 

()() 

His shoulders heave as he retches hot bile into the toilet. His dark hair hangs in his face while a fine sheen of sweat covers his forehead. The metal hand grips the stall wall, fingers digging into the surface as he expels the commanders seamen from his body. 

He doesn't cry, but tears prick unbidden at the corners of his eyes as he straightens, flesh hand wiping furiously at his mouth. 

What he had done with Steve the night before...that had been different than what he just did with the commander. With Steve it had been because he _wanted_ to; his wanting to give the Navigator pleasure had been from his own mind, not some sort of twisted obligation. 

The Solider flushes the toilet, gaze unfocused as he watched the bile and cum swirl down the drain. 

These thoughts are troubling; he shouldn't feel sick at the thought of touching his commander, the one who gave him a second life (even if he doesn't remember the previous one). The Soldier shakes his head and leaves the stall in order to splash water over his flushed face. 

He debates with himself if he should go back to the dormitory and see Steve. There would be a risk that the Navigator will want to talk about what happened between them, or even it happening again...the Soldier's stomach lurches at the thought of doing something intimate even though it would be more pleasant with the Navigator. 

Staring at himself in the mirror, the Soldier studies the bags lining his eyes, his lanky hair hanging in front of his face, the glint of the Arm under the bathroom's lights. He wonders if he's always looked this ragged; the thought makes a sardonic smirk come to his mouth, because how would someone like Steve ever want someone like _him_? 

The bathroom door slammed open, causing the Soldier to quickly turn on his heel and pin the person who ran into the room to the wall. It was a slender Fighter with bright red hair and wide green eyes; the Soldier frowned, placing a task name to the face: Iapyx, the Fighter to Navigator task name Icarus. 

"A-Achilles!" The Fighter gasps against his grip, "Please, let me g-go, there's trouble..." The Soldier's eyes narrow and his grip tightens. Iapyx attempts to suck down air, and his feet kick in the air. "It's your N-Navigator!" 

The Soldier drops Iapyx as a wave of dread washes over him. "Where?" The Fighter is gasping for air and coughing, but he lifts a shaking hand in the general direction of where the Soldier needs to go. 

He takes off without a second thought. The halls of the Fighter command center are narrow and sound travels easily. He can hear loud cheering and the unmistakable noise of flesh connecting with flesh. As he draws clearer, voices begin to take shape while the echo of pained grunts are peppered through the commotion. 

"Kick his ass, Crossbones!" 

"Show that bitch who's boss!" 

The Soldier shoves through the throng of bodies clustered in the hall. His mouth goes dry upon seeing Steve being held by his scrawny arms by two Fighters while another much larger male repeatedly slams his fist into the Navigator's stomach. 

One of the Navigator's eyes is swollen shut while bright red blood dribbles from his nose and stains the crisp white of his uniform. The Soldier watches as Steve grits his teeth in a farce of a grin, blood staining the cracks. "I-I can do this all day, mother fucker." 

He sees red. 

()()

It had been stupid, in hindsight, to go down into the Fighters' level. They are known for being a tense and violent bunch, but Steve hadn't been thinking clearly as he all but marches into the lower level. 

Fighters are jammed in the narrow halls, the space far more cramped than the upper levels. They give him curious and suspicious looks, conversations cut short as he passes. Steve tries not to think that the deep black of their uniforms reminded him of ocean trenches and what lurked in the deep, and instead focuses on his task at hand. 

"Excuse me?" He keeps his voice level as he marches up to a group of Fighters. He knows that they're laughing at him, and watches as one (the leader it seems) sneers. Steve straightens to his full height and tightens his hands into fists. 

The man looks down his crooked nose, a smirk on his face as he crosses his bulky arms over his chest. Steve tells himself that he isn't intimidated because his own Fighter is far more intimidating than _this_ guy. "What can I do for ya, sweetheart?" The group of Fighters snort at the man's drawling question. Steve wills himself not to flush in embarrassment, and instead lifts his chin. 

"I'm looking for my Fighter, task name: Achilles. Know where he is?" There's a visible shift amongst the Fighters surrounding them. They glance between each other while some begin to whisper. Steve isn't able to catch anything, but he does wonder. 

The cocky Fighter doesn't show if he's affected by who Steve's Fighter is, and instead grips the Navigator's chin between two strong fingers. "Haven't seen that basket case around since they shipped him upstairs, but how 'bout you forget about him for now? We can show you a real good time, sweetheart." Steve recoils in disgust, his hand lifting up to swat away the man's. 

"No. Thanks." He doesn't realize that he's been surrounded until it's too late. Steve sucks in a breath, his heart thudding quickly against his breast bone as he assesses the situation. 

The Fighter sighs and shakes his head; he takes a step closer and cracks his fingers. "Well that's too bad; see, we're nice guys and there ain't a whole lotta pretty options down here. Why don't you be good and--" His sentence is cut off by Steve punching him in the mouth. 

The Navigator sucks in a breath between his teeth as his knuckles scream from the impact, but he tightens his fist and lifts them up. There's a tense moment as the Fighter blinks at him in surprise; he runs his tongue over his teeth, surprised by the taste of blood. 

Steve crouches into a defensive position as the Fighter barks an order to grab him. He's thankful for the training that all cadets in the academy had to go through, no matter if they were a Navigator or not. His fists fly and manage to land a few good hits until his arms are wrenched behind his back. 

A pained grunt tumbles from his mouth at the first punch; stars explode behind his eyes and he feels blood begin to drop from his nose. They've attached a crowd of roaring Fighters who are calling out nasty things. Steve thinks he hears a confused shout from Sam's Fighter, but he's punched once more. 

His head drops once, blackness washing over him for only a few seconds before Steve comes to again. He's being punched over and over in his stomach, and the air isn't staying in his lungs. _Great,_ Steve thinks blandly, _I'm not gonna die in combat, I'm gonna die because of an asthma attack._

When there's a pause in the punches, Steve wheezes out, "I-I can do this all day, mother fucker." 

The Fighter grins and prepares to begin his assault once more, but a harsh shout has him freezing. The group of Fighters begin to quickly disperse, eyes wide and fearful as Steve'a Fighter stalks into the center. 

The Navigator is instantly dropped to the ground as the Fighters who had been holding him flee. Steve tries to catch his breath, but lets out a strangled cry when Achilles (Soldat?) grabs the other Fighter by the neck and begins strangling him. 

"S-stop...!" His voice is far too weak; the man is trying to tear away the Fighter's hand. Steve stands on shaky legs. "ENOUGH." 

His Fighter freezes, blue eyes snapping to him until he gingerly releases the other Fighter. The man coughs and quickly scrambles away from them. Steve stares down his Fighter, body swaying and nose still bleeding; he turns on his heel (less gracefully than he would like) and knows that his Fighter will follow. 

They make it back to the upper decks and into the relative safety of their room before Steve cracks. "What were you thinking!?" 

His Fighter blinks and then snarls. "What was _I_ thinking? What were _you_ doing down _there_? Don't you know it isn't safe for a Navigator to go down into the Fighter command center!?" 

Steve hastily wipes at the blood on his face, uncaring that his uniform is beyond saving. "I didn't just try to _kill_ someone!" 

His Fighter narrows his eyes and steps into Steve's space; the blond stands his ground, not in the mood to be bodily intimidated today. "He was going to kill you," His Fighter grinds out, "I was _protecting_ you. Idiot." 

Steve huffs out a breath from his nose, splattering them both with specks of blood. Good. "I was down there looking for you because..." He trails off, knowing his reasoning would sound rather odd. Because he had a dream with one of the Goddesses warning him of a possible mutiny when he wasn't even a part of the priest class? It was laughable at best and grounds to send him back down to Earth for mental treatment at worst. 

His Fighter snorts humorlessly and takes a step out of Steve's personal space. He crosses his arms and gives the blond a quick once over. "You're going to medical, and I'm reporting that _fucker_ to your commander." 

Steve's shoulders deflate, and he gives the Fighter an exasperated look. "I've never even seen him up here so he obviously doesn't have a Navigator--" 

His Fighter grabs his wrist and begins to lead him out of their room. The grip isn't rough, but Steve watched the other man strangle someone with the same hand only a few moments ago. "It doesn't matter, he hurt _my_ Navigator; he needs to pay." Steve swallows thickly and follows the Fighter to the medical bay. 

Though the Goddess' warning still rings loudly in his head, he can't help but feel...happy. 

Perhaps it really _had_ been only a dream?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit this was a long time coming, sorry guys. 
> 
> THE GODDESSES ARE PROBABLY ALIENS OR SOME SHIT IDK
> 
> But here we really veer off from Starfighter cannon. Welp ٩( ᐛ )و


End file.
